October round up.

Back at the beginning of the month, I was riding a delightful little wave — fresh off the triumph of my knitted pixie boots. Confidence boosted, heart full, and utterly smitten with those whimsical foot-huggers, I decided it was time to embark on a sock journey.

And what a journey it’s been.

I’ve wrestled with DPNs, tangoed with Trio needles, and flirted with a 9-inch round. Some methods were kinder than others. Currently, I’m experimenting with the idea of knitting socks flat on two needles. Have I completed a sock yet? Absolutely not. I keep getting tangled in the Bermuda Triangle of sock knitting: the heel turn. I did it for the boots — so why not socks?

I’ve tried different patterns. I’ve watched videos. I’ve read blog posts that promised “easy socks” (lies, all lies). I haven’t given up, though. I’m now considering a method that claims to “take the pain out of heels.” We’ll see about that.

Amidst the sock chaos the mohair project has made quiet, fuzzy progress. Not much — just a gentle row or two before work — but enough to remind me that not all yarn tangles, and not all stitches fight back.

It’s the kind of knitting that doesn’t demand much, just a soft touch and a bit of patience. And in a month like October, that’s been more than welcome.

Meanwhile, life has been busy. Work gobbled up most of the month with extra shifts, and the few days off I did get were spent running errands and chasing chores. I’m currently on day two of a brief reprieve after an eight-day stint — and tomorrow I dive into another seven-day stretch. Crafty time has been scarce. Grandchild cuddles even scarcer. I’m feeling the withdrawal. 

October also brought a head cold that clung on far longer than anticipated. It’s mostly gone now, but I’ve been left with a cough that refuses to pack its bags — and every time it rattles through, it tweaks my back like a mischievous gremlin.

I’d been hoping to stretch out my chiropractic visits to once a fortnight. That dream was short-lived. On the first day of an eight-day work stretch, I was sent to help out in my old role — all seemed well until I woke in the middle of the night in full spasm mode. Back to three visits a week. Every cough now comes with a bonus wince.

Let’s just say October didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat. But I’m still standing (mostly upright), still knitting (mostly socks), and still hopeful that November might bring a little more ease — and maybe even a completed heel.

Spring has supposedly arrived here in New Zealand. Some days, it shows — we bask in glorious sunshine, temperatures tipping over 20°C. Then a Southerly storm barrels up the islands. Felling trees, ripping of roofs, causing road closures and landslides, power outages and chaos everywhere it goes, and dumping a huge load of snow over the mountains and foothills. 

All around us, towns scrambled to clean up. Insurance companies braced themselves. Tradesmen weighed up who needed them most urgently. And Timaru? 

Timaru had a bit of weather.

No flooding. No damage. No chaos. Just a few gusts and a collective shrug

Just when October seemed determined to test my patience to it's very limits, a little burst of joy arrived in the cherry tree. While bustling about in the kitchen, I caught sight of a flutter and a flurry — and there she was: Mrs Goldfinch, perched proudly in a tiny nest, right at eye level.

She’s been there ever since, snug and serene, keeping watch over what I hope are soon-to-be hatchlings. I peek out every time I pass through, and it’s become a quiet ritual — a reminder that even in tangled sock yarn and sore backs, life finds a way to surprise us with sweetness.

Babies are coming. And I, for one, am thrilled.

October, you’ve been a menace. Socks unfinished, my back in revolt, and weather with a flair for destruction. You swept in with storms, stolen my days off, and left me coughing and cranky. Frankly, I’m thrilled to see the back of you.

Here’s to November — may it be gentler, brighter, and far less dramatic. I’m ready for baby birds, finished socks, and a spine that behaves itself, time with my Grandchildren and our wedding anniversary.  It's Joe and Lee's anniversary too.